The Things That Kill
by thegeekpatrol
Summary: There are a lot of things that can kill a person. Reid has experienced more than the average person. And when a case goes wrong, will he worry or be relieved? Will this be the thing that will finally kill him?
1. Chapter 1

"You took my daughter in a black SUV, and brought her back in a coffin. You'll get no help from me." The woman said.

JJ sat next to her: "Ma'am, I can't imagine what you're going through, but we need your help. Wouldn't Hannah want-"

"Don't you tell me what Hannah would want! You've killed her!"

"Ms. Everton… We need to know more details about Jeremy, you might be able to give us more information. You- " JJ was cut off.

"I have nothing more for you. Get out! Just- just leave!" The woman's body wracked with sobs as she commanded their departure.

"Ma'am, I am so sorry for your loss. Please let us know if you change your mind. Just… think about it, please."

JJ nodded at the door to Reid and they exited the Everton house. JJ took the wheel of the SUV and they drove in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Reid broke the silence.

"It was my fault."

"Hannah knew the risk when she entered the building. And as unfortunate as it ended, it was her choice. It was most definitely not your fault."

"I let her go. I knew Munroe was in there, and I knew he was armed."

"You didn't. You knew it was a possibility, and so did she. There's nothing you could have done."

"I could have stopped her- I should have! She didn't even have a gun, and there was no backup." Reid didn't bother to wipe away the silent tears running down his face.

JJ pulled the car over. "Spence, I need you to look at me. You did not do this. Do not blame yourself, don't you dare. Any of us can play the blame game. I could've left Hannah out of the mix, Morgan could've driven a little faster, and Hotch could've put Hannah on the phone with Munroe earlier. It's always easy to blame yourself, Spence. But you can't do it, it'll ruin you."

Reid pursed his lips and nodded solemnly. JJ ruffled his hair and began driving again, resuming the silence. She hated it, but didn't know what else to say. _Should she change the subject?_ _Would that just further Spencer's pain?_ He seemed to shake off her words, but she knew he wouldn't listen if she continued to say the same thing over and over again. She knew that he was replaying the scene over and over again in his head. That memory of his probably hurt him as much as it helped.

JJ inwardly rejoiced when they finally reached the station. She and Reid stepped in where Hotch scanned the two. "JJ, come see me in the conference room." She followed him into the conference room. "Ms. Everton refused to help any further?"

"Yes, sir. The poor woman blames us for Hannah's death. And… well, it is a bit hard not to share those feelings. I know Spence is beating himself up over it. He probably shouldn't have come to see Ms. Everton."

"Would leaving him to stew in his own guilt have been any better?" Hotch wondered aloud.

"It wasn't his fault. We all… we all could have done things differently. He always does this- always internalizes these things. Why can't he understand? And now, he's not going to be able to stop thinking about Munroe. He'll enter his angry genius mode where he doesn't sleep or eat."

"I know. I can try and convince him to get to the motel and get some rest."

"Good luck." JJ scoffed and they met up with the rest of the team.

"Where do we go from here?" Reid asked Hotch.

"We all need rest. It's been a long few days and we've barely slept. We know Munroe is going to stay low for at least 2 days."

"What? Hotch, we can't-" Reid started to protest.

"That's an order, Reid." Hotch sternly said.

"Let's go, pretty boy. We can pick up some food on the way." Morgan convinced Reid.

"Ooh, count me in. I'm starving." Prentiss piped in.

"Good idea, Morgan. We'll all stop at that diner before we go to motel." Hotch said, almost like an order.

The diner was packed and they barely managed to find an area that sat them all. Morgan and Prentiss were sharing a dish, while everyone else ate separately. Rossi noticed that Reid wasn't touching his soup, and when he claimed he needed some air, Rossi became suspicious.

"I think I'll join him- it's getting a little loud for my liking." Rossi said and excused himself. Once outside, he noticed the team's resident genius leaning against the wall with a lit cigarette in hand.

"Why would someone so smart do something so stupid?" Rossi startled Reid.

"Rossi! I-"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to rat you out to Hotch. In fact..." he said pulling a cigar from his bag, "I could use a light."

"You're one to talk. Judging me about smoking when you keep cigars on your person." He said, lighting Rossi's cigar.

"Us old folks have an excuse. We got addicted before we knew they were bad. Didn't they teach you kids in school all about the dangers of smoking?"

"I graduated high school at 12, Rossi. I skipped a lot of those 'Don't Do Drugs' assemblies."

"Sure, sure. But everyone knows smoking will kill you."

"Yeah, so does heroin. I figure, cigarettes are legal and allow me to continue to work."

"Heroin?"

"Hotch didn't tell you? I'm an addict. Began a few years ago on a case…" He said while puffing smoke. "Tobias Hankel. Familiar?"

"I know you were kidnapped and tortured."

"And drugged. Dilaudid. I got addicted, and well… I got off of it- replaced one addiction with another, I guess." He said, referring to his cigarette. "But hey, I've never relapsed, so, I've got that going for me."

"Hannah's not your fault, Reid."

"Why do you all keep saying that? You don't have to lie to me. Everyone knows that it was stupid and wrong of me to let her go without me."

"It was defensible. Hannah was the only possible person he could see without immediately shooting. You had reason behind your decision."

"When I was a kid, all I wanted to do was cure schizophrenia. It was my main point of research for months. I know more about it than most doctors. I should have known, Rossi! I'm a profiler, for god-sakes! I should have known that he'd lose control and kill her!"

"None of knew for sure."

"I could hear her as she died. She apologized. To both Munroe and I. She begged for my help, but by then the explosion had stunned me. I tried to get to her, but it was too late. I could barely walk, and when I got to her, she wasn't breathing. Munroe looked at me and just… smiled. I pulled out my gun and shot at him, but I was too dizzy, I couldn't see him properly, and he escaped unscathed." Reid's face seemed to break. "I could have done something. That feeling of being helpless… I can never seem to let it go. Every time, I get the urges to- to." He fell silent.

"Listen, kid. I know you're not going to stop thinking about this, and as useless and frustrating it is to hear, it's going to take time. So for now, rest- _**eat**_ \- and we'll pick this back up tomorrow morning and catch this bastard." Rossi assured him, squeezing Reid's shoulder.

"I'll try." Reid said, and stomped out his cigarette.

"All you need to do." Rossi comforted him.

They returned to the diner where the team was finishing their meals. Reid got his soup in a to-go cup and they all made their way to the motel. None of them were a big fan of the , motel wasn't really the best name for it. It was really an old military bunker. And each room had cots instead of beds. It had been an effective use of space when it was used for military purposes, sleeping 4 to a room. It was cramped and uncomfortable for everyone. But it was all there was in the miniscule town.

At around 3 in the morning, Rossi heard someone moving to the door. He looked up to catch Reid's eye. Reid held up his pack of cigarettes and quietly left the room. Rossi frowned and went back to sleep.

The next morning the team groaned as they all met in the so-called lobby of the motel. As nearly everyone arrived, Hotch spoke: "Has anyone seen Reid this morning?"

"I saw him… at around 3 this morning. But not since. I figured he'd just gotten up already."

"So did I. What were you doing at 3?" Morgan asked.

"Reid woke me up when he went to s- uh, get some air."

"To get some air? Like last night? Come on, Rossi, what was he really doing?" Prentiss questioned Rossi.

"Well, he didn't really want me sharing with the whole team, but I suppose if you must know, he went out to smoke."

"The kid smokes?" Morgan scoffed in unbelief.

"Has been since shortly after the Hankel case." Hotch sadly mumbled.

"Wait, you knew?" Rossi cried.

"Of course I did. Reid is not a good liar. And a person only needs to much fresh air."

"Now that we've exposed Reid's shameful secret, could we possibly focus on the fact that we can't find him?" JJ inquired.

"Yeah, you're right, Jaje. I'll check in with the manager. Morgan, check our room, and JJ call the station." Hotch ordered and everyone got to work.

They all met back up in the lobby where Morgan and JJ had both come up empty.

"Well, the one good thing about this hotel is that it has great security cameras. The manager is pulling the footage now." Hotch grumbled.

The manager called for Hotch to see the footage. Hotch watched the computer and felt every nerve in his body tense. _**Reid had been taken by Munroe**_.


	2. Chapter 2

Reid felt a throbbing in the back of his head. A pulsating feeling that spread down his spine. He peeled his eyes open to see the silhouette of a man staring down at him.

"Hello, Doctor Reid." He said.

"Jeremy?" Reid rasped, and was joined by a bolt of pain through his head.

"Jeremy's not here. He was feeling pretty sensitive about the whole… Hannah ordeal." The man responded.

"Who- who are you?" Reid asked, his head swimming in a pool of dizziness.

"Vincent. But there's no need to talk about me, let's talk about you. I was quite impressed by Hannah, but when I saw you—she became nothing. There's just something about you, Spencer. What might that be?"

"Where's Jeremy?" Spencer tried to move, but noticed his hands bound behind him to the chair.

"He'll be back soon. Whenever the lights come on, he always emerges from his corner— Jeremy just _loves_ it. But we're not talking about him, we're talking about you."

"What could you possibly want to know about me?" Reid questioned, the pain becoming more and more prevalent.

"Oh, trust me, Doctor, there are _many_ things I would like to know about you."

"Fine. Ask me anything. I have nothing to hide."

"Why do you think your team hasn't found you yet?"

"What does that mean? I—I haven't been gone that long, it takes time to find hostages."

"It's been 3 days. Shouldn't that be more than enough time for your team? They are the best, aren't they?"

"Well, the profile… the profile was wrong. They'll get it. And they'll find me." Reid couldn't breathe, his pain overwhelming his mind.

"I don't think so. Without you… your team is useless. You carry that team. What happened the last time you were taken by a killer? Your team couldn't do anything, could they?"

"That's not true. They were there- they figured it out."

"Yeah, after you spelled it out for them. And even then, it was too late. Hankle had already killed you and nearly did it again. You saved yourself! So, I ask you again why do you think your team hasn't found you yet?"

"Our profile was wrong, and they had to go back to scratch."

"You had your suspicions, though. Didn't you? That the profile was wrong?"

"I always do if we don't find the unsub soon enough. You're never sure if you're right."

"But they didn't. They all just heard the word "schizophrenia" and figured it was a good enough explanation. You knew—you _know_ —that's not Jeremy. Not completely, at least."

Reid was shaking. From the pain of his headache or nicotine withdrawals, he wasn't sure. Possibly a mixture of both. He could barely breathe, and was losing control over his body. Along with his consciousness.

"Sir, I have perused the footage— I have watched it over and over again, and I am not finding anything that can help me. For being such a heavily monitored area, Munroe has kept hidden any kind of identifying information of where he might be." Garcia's voice rang through Hotch's phone.

"You know what, Garcia, I need you down here. You'll do your work best where you can see all of the variables." Hotch ordered.

"Yes, sir. I'll be on a plane quicker than Rossi denies his adoration of One Direction."

Hotch suppressed a smirk and ended the call. Somehow, Garcia could make him smile even now. His momentary joy was undercut with worry, however, when he looked at the clock. _Over 72 hours._

"Everybody, in the conference room." The incomplete team stepped into the conference room. "Alright, it's been three days. Where are we?" Silence rang for moments too long for anyone on the team to be comfortable.

"We've gone back to scratch so many times, we- there's nothing left that pans out. We don't even know where the profile was wrong."

"I still think it's the schizophrenia that we got wrong. Reid seemed to think so."JJ said.

"We have no evidence of that- nothing to back it up." Morgan argued.

"Well, what made us decide it was schizophrenia?"

"The disorganization, mostly, Everything about him was random. His victims, MO, dumping sites. He was sloppy, made mistakes. Not to mention that his therapist suspected that he had schizophrenia."

"Hannah hadn't met him face-to-face. And she wasn't sure yet. She hadn't had enough time to properly diagnose it." Rossi countered.

Prentiss began: "Well, that's what makes the most sense. Everything we _have_ points to it, we-"

Hotch interrupted: "All this time of us going back and forth for days is time that Reid is with Munroe. We don't know what's happening to him, all we know is that we need to find him now."

"Well, what do we have wrong?" JJ questioned.

"Maybe… we don't have anything wrong." Rossi suggested "Maybe we just need to… complete the profile."

 _Ticking. Shifting. Order. Tick, tock. Tick tock. Tick… tock. Silence, grinding, disorder. Resetting, resetting. Silence, grinding, disorder. Disorder. Disorder. Silence._

 _Pain. Pain, pain pain pain pain. Silence, pain, grinding, pain, disorder, pain._

 _Nothing. And then tightness. And then pain. Incomplete, it's incomplete. Incomplete and broken. Broken and then nothing._

Reid woke with a gasp. Fire burned within his chest and the walls seemed to be turning, like he was on the inside of a pottery wheel, watching the colors collide and spin. He took air in as if he'd never get it again. Finally, the spinning came to a stop.

The door opened, Munroe following it, and Reid was blinded as the lights came on. As is vision returned, Reid took notice of where he was. It looked like he was underground. No windows, one door. Walls, ceiling, and floor all concrete. Not to mention the pressure on his ears and head. Reid still couldn't quite see and was starting to realize the pain in his eyes, seeming to come from the light.

He noticed Munroe holding a tray. He pushed the tray towards Reid and set it on his lap. Munroe pulled up a chair and took a grilled cheese from the tray.

"My mama used to make these for me." He said in his southern drawl. "She cut 'em up into triangles like this."

"Jeremy, why did you take me?" Reid asked in a steady voice.

"I liked when the cheese stretched. And then I dipped it into the tomato soup."

"Why did you kill Hannah?"

"And, of course, my mama always made me drink a glass of milk with it."

"Jeremy. Why are you doing this to me?"

"It's Vincent who wanted you! Not me! I wanted Hannah, but he said that we had to kill her so we could get you!"

"W-what?" Reid could barely process what he was saying.

"So now I'm stuck feeding Vincent's little pet!"

"Where is Vincent?" Reid asked.

"He's out. Won't be back for a while." He started to cut the grilled cheese.

"Why do you listen to him- to Vincent? What do you owe him?"

"He's my closest friend. The only person who ever understood me… except Hannah." He became quiet. "But Vincent knows what's best. And he told me to feed you. So eat up."

"...My- my hands are tied."

"And now I've gotta hand-feed his pet too. Great." Munroe said with clear annoyance in his voice.

"You don't have to feed me. I- I can feed myself." Reid innocently suggested.

"And have you attackin' me and escapin'? Nah, Vincent would be pissed."

"You don't have to feed me, then. I only want you to do what you're comfortable doing."

"Don't play this game with me, Doctor. Don't pretend you care."

"I do care. I mean, I cared about Hannah. You clearly did, too. We have something that connects us. I know how you feel, because… I feel it too."

"Do." He shortly responded.

"Sorry?"

"I _do_ care about Hannah. You said I did. But I still do. And you barely knew her." Munroe snapped.

"I've read every one of her books. You know that I'm a profiler. Her books were all about psychology- they fascinated me. I've been in touch with her for years."

"What?"

"Yes. She and I were friends. For many years."

"Did she ever say anything about me?" Munroe begged.

"Y-yes. She did." It wasn't technically a lie. He could play the call that he got over and over again in his head.

" _Doctor Reid. Spencer. Um… that killer you're after? I think he might be one of my patients."_

" _W-what makes you say that? Don't you live in Montana? The murders aren't in Montana."_

" _I've been doing this online program. It's part of a study to see how effectively therapy works without physically being around them… anyways, that's not the point. I've noticed that the murders are going across state lines, and, uh… they look like they're leading to me."_

" _Okay, Hannah. You-"_

" _No, I need you to listen. He… he's been sending me this book he's writing. The characters match your victims. This book is the only thing he can stay focused on. I think- I think he has schizophrenia. He keeps telling me that he wants to see me. That he want to talk to me in person."_

" _What did you say?"_

" _I told him that he couldn't. That I had stopped seeing my patients in person."_

" _What did he say?"_

" _He wanted me to tell him where I lived. I told him no, and that if he kept asking, I couldn't be his therapist anymore."_

" _I take it he didn't respond well."_

" _He did, actually. Or so I thought. He started writing the book, and sending me the chapters. It wasn't until the last murder I heard about, and I realized it coincided with his character- and it took place in Montana. I… connected the dots. I waited a few days and then…_ _ **I**_ _showed up in his book. Spencer, I-"_ Hannah's sobs echoed throughout Reid's mind.

" _Hannah, listen, we're going to figure this out, okay? Now, what I need you to do is give me all the information you have about this patient. Then, you need to get to your nearest police station. I need to talk to my team about this, okay. So make sure you're safe and send me everything you have on him, okay?"_

" _O-okay. Thank you, Spencer."_

" _Please be safe. Be careful."_

Reid was pulled back into reality, hearing a faraway voice. Munroe looked to him, as if he'd asked a question.

"W-what?"

"What did she say about me?"

"She… told me about your book."

"She did?"

"Yes. Mostly about the characters. I don't know the story itself too well." This piqued Munroe's interest.

"Who… which one's your favorite character?"

"I like Harriett. She's… very kind. I don't care much for Agatha, though."

"That's… that because you don't understand her character!" Munroe insisted. "She...she's incredibly complex. You just need to understand her context, her background."

"Does her background have to do with Jared's?"

"Yes! Yes, though I haven't revealed it yet. See, you- you get it. I think I see why Vincent likes you."

"I still don't quite get it. Why does Vincent like me?" Reid asked, as if talking to a friend.

"You understand people. You're just different."

"Well, it's my job to understand people. It's my whole team's job to understand people. Why me, specifically?"

"Like I said, you're different."

"What does that mean?"

"Just stop asking me questions, and eat some food. Vincent wants you ready for him when he comes back. He wants you nice and strong."

"I don't think I've ever been considered strong. What does Vincent have planned that I need to be strong for?"

Munroe smiled. "Oh, you'll like it. It'll be like a game to you. Vincent thinks it's fun. I'm sure you will, too."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N:

hello again. i'm so sorry. i'm garbage. i'm terrible. you probably completely forgot about this fic, and you have every right to. idk if i'll ever even post any more of it, but nearly a year later, my brain decided it could suddenly write fanfiction again, so that's a nice change from illiteracy.  
keep in mind, i haven't even a little bit edited this or looked it over, and i sure as hell didn't check for continuity, so again, i'm sorry and i completely understand if you'd like to cyberbully me now. i'll start: thegeekpatrol, you're terrible at writing. (Also, idk why this font is happening , sorry)

"We need to look a why we suspected Munroe in the first place. I mean… we didn't really have any concrete suspects." Prentiss was telling the group.

"Not until Hannah called Spence and gave him her theory." JJ remarked.

"What does it matter? There's only so far that he could've gone and we are wasting time that we could be looking for Reid. There's only so far that he could've gone!" Morgan angrily slammed the table.

"Morgan, it's our job to get the profile. We have to trust it." Hotch patiently said.

"I understand that. But at some point, we've got to get people searching."

"I agree. And as soon as we know where to start searching, we will. Until then, we need to do what we know best."

"Guys, his notes are impossible to get through, and I don't even think these are all of them. His system is so… erratic." Prentiss frustratedly said, flipping through pages of Reid's notes.

"Reid is the most particular person I know. Nothing about him is erratic, there has to be some kind of order." JJ said.

"Yeah, but I have no idea how his brain works and connects things. Not to mention that his handwriting looks to be practically a foreign language. And some of it _**is**_ in a foreign language. Wait…"

"What is it?" Rossi asked.

"This is the third time he's mentioned the book. _The book_. We need to get ahold of that. All we've got is excerpts to match the victims. There's got to be more he can reveal to us." Prentiss skimmed through.

"We can see if Garcia can get ahold of it from Hannah. Munroe emailed it to her, right?" Morgan started.

"If only our speech pattern analyst were here." Prentiss wished.

"Prentiss, you have a lot of those skills. I mean a couple of us can look through it, but I think you're the one best suited for this." Hotch said.

"Garcia should be here in the next hour or so- let's call her and have her start looking." Morgan said, dialling the phone. "Babygirl, we've got a job for you."

Reid was sick. His stomach churned, and could hear his heartbeat racing. He'd fallen in and out of consciousness, and finally remained awake. Munroe entered the room. His brows were creased in contemplation, and he was sniffing strangely- Reid wasn't surprised, Hannah said he'd be bound to have several ticks.

"What's wrong?" Reid asked.

"Vincent ain't back yet." He paced back and forth, sniffing like a hound.

"Well, where'd he go?" Reid pressed.

"I don't know, he don't ever say…" His voice drifted off and he continued pacing.

"He doesn't tell you where he's going? What kind of friend is that- one who doesn't trust you?"

"I _know_ what you're tryn'a do! And it ain't working. He don't say because he don't want me worryin. He's helping me." Munroe explained.

"I'm sure he wants you to think that. That's how he manipulates you." Reid said.

"Just stop! You're not going to trick me! He said you'd try to, and I know you don't care, so stop talkin!"

"I do care. I-I do. I-" A coughing fit took over Reid, bringing pain to his whole body. "I- want to help you, Jeremy. Tell me what I can do to help you?"

"You'll shut up! Alright? You'll shut up! In fact, Vincent gave me this if I needed to shut you up…" Munroe reached for a syringe on the cart behind him. "Now, I'm no doctor-" He chuckled to himself, "And I've never done this, but I doubt it will be too difficult."

"No, no. Jeremy, don't. Please! I-"

"When will you learn to shut up? God! Where's the… the injection? I can't find the injection. It's so loud, dammit, Vincent, why'd you make me take him? I didn't want to take him." He mumbled, a turbulence in the air.

"Jeremy, you don't know how, please, I'll be quiet if you let me stay awake."

"SHUT UP!" Jeremy shouted, finally seeing the injection, and filling the syringe.

"No, no, Jeremy, no, please, no…" Reid murmured, squirming away from the syringe. Jeremy's hands shook, Reid winced as he poked around, looking for a vein, and upon discovery, plunging the liquid into the struggling man's bloodstream. The companionship of darkness was becoming familiar to him. Perhaps, even a comfort.

Once again, Reid woke. And regretted it as soon as he did. The exhausting routine of prying his eyes open and trying to remember how to breathe began. Only, he couldn't see. He realized that there was a blindfold over his eyes. Great.

"You're awake? Good. It's about time we got started." Vincent's voice rang through Reid's head. "You've probably noticed that I've blindfolded you. The thing is, we're going to be playing a game. And I don't want you cheating by observing me." His footsteps became louder and Reid could feel the heat from his body, hovering over him.

"And.. and what game would that be?" Reid managed to choke out.

"It's an easy game. It's called 'Right or Wrong'. I give you a statement. You say whether it is right or wrong. I let you know if you are correct. For every answer you are correct, you get a point. At 800 points, I will free you. For every answer you are incorrect, you get a surprise." Reid could practically hear him smile, "You're a knowledgeable man. A man of logic. I'm sure this game will come easily to you. I'm sure you'll learn that it's not pleasant to be incorrect. So… let's begin."

Vincent took a pause, perhaps, to revel in the uneasiness of the room.

"The square root of pi is approximated to be 1.772. Right or wrong?" Vincent asked.

 _Right,_ Reid thought. But it couldn't be that easy.

"Right or wrong, Dr. Reid?" Vincent impatiently asked.

"...r-right."

"You are correct. Next. The greek alphabet has 25 letters. Right or wrong?" Vincent asked.

"Wrong." Reid stated.

"Correct. Next. Shostakovich's Symphony No. 6 was written as a tribute to Leningrad. Right or wrong?"

Reid's head hurt. He tried to hear the 6th symphony. I wouldn't sound. _Which one was it?_ Vincent barked 'right or wrong?'. "Right."

A second passed. Then another. Three more.

"That's incorrect."

A searing pain soared through Reid's shoulder. He could smell his scorching skin. He stifled a sob.

"Next. You are a member of the BAU."

 _What was this? A test?_ "Right." Reid answered, his jaw clenched in pain.

"Incorrect." The poker hit his shoulder again. Reid let out another cry.

"What? I was right!"

"That is incorrect." Once more, Reid was branded.

"Next. Your team is searching for you. Right or wrong?" Vincent calmly asked.

"Please…" Reid let out weakly.

"That is not an answer, therefore, it is incorrect." This time, a knife was pressed against Reid's cheekbone, going deeper and deeper.

"Right! RIGHT!" Reid screamed.

"That is incorrect."


End file.
